


The Pursuit of Happiness

by BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Character Study, Episode: The Big Reveal, F/M, Fake Character Death, Superhero-turned-Supervillian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk/pseuds/BeatrixGtheMaskedDogNoobsomeExagerjunk
Summary: The first time Laserblast feels happy was when he first had his drain of power.The sight of his enemies falling in weakness, this surge of rejuvenation being triggered at their suffering.It always felt too short, never enough to keep him going.He looks, he seeks, he finds. He starts fights himself and tries to draw from the crowds of admirers and fans a sense of validation that perhaps, just maybe, he’s right at what he’s doing.





	The Pursuit of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this after getting inspired by watching The Big Reveal
> 
> This was supposed to be longer but I couldn’t find the right place to continue, so I cut it to where it was cut here
> 
> Might write another PV fic, probs focused on Carol and Boxman

The first time Laserblast feels happy was when he first had his drain of power.

The sight of his enemies falling in weakness, this surge of rejuvenation being triggered at their suffering.

It always felt too short, never enough to keep him going.

He looks, he seeks, he finds. He starts fights himself and tries to draw from the crowds of admirers and fans a sense of validation that perhaps, just maybe, he’s right at what he’s doing.

Young men and women breaking their backs for him, acts of gratitude he wishes had some more respect—acts that he wished praised him a little more to the right, no no, left—it was never just right.

The second time was when he first met her—the girl who blindly stabbed his nostrils with her nimble fingers that seemed to spark with unbridled energy.

She was a couple of years younger than him, not too much but preferable to his tastes. Silver Spark was one hell of a woman, unhinged and undeterred. Her optimism was unique, so much as to make him smile. No, laugh rather, and in boisterous harmony with her own.

Her encouragement was welcomed with great hospitality—the whole team rode on her motivation. Greyman chose well. Foxtail admired her loyalty and strength. She and Rippy Roo would discuss intellectual matters together. Kinda funny how El-Bow stammered so much around her. He was a fear-inspiring brute but perhaps sensed a woman of Silver’s stature was someone to tremble before.

Poor guy. They bring out the best in each other. Laser wonders if Silver would like El-Bow instead. He certainly likes El-Bow, but likes Silver a little—no much, yes—much more.

She tasted of unfiltered sugars, honey, and cinnamon, exciting his lust and his so obvious sweet tooth. He can’t help but take a bite out of her. She’s convinced she knows his taste enough, unaware of that painful crunch that comes from biting into the lollipop.

Sparks was intelligent, but so painfully naïve, blindly using her powers sometimes on the wrong people. Laser liked that she isn’t flawless. The fact eased him.

Silver Spark was a true hero, and heroes learn from their mistakes. He wonders if things would’ve turned out differently if her strength didn’t threaten his ego, his self-esteem, his so incredibly unstable state of satisfaction.

The woman was a copycat of the greatest kind, a reflective mirror who could bounce back enemy attacks. They were quite similar, only she retained the knowledge to replicate certain powers.

He, by nature, was insatiable. He takes, but the power never stays for long. He gets more tired at this hero business as he thirsts.

He never thought he’d get tired of her gap-toothed smile.

He never thought he’d learn to loathe the expression he always cherished.

That thirst of his, her irritating radiance—sure it made for more successful drains, but still! Still!

Still.

It’s never enough.

Science came to him naturally—repairing his precious van, growing his personal garden, his fondness for lovable creatures—no wonder he chose that Rippy Roo. They both shared a love for the sciences; her focus was on Physical sciences, while he went for Biology. Specifically bioengineering.

He snuck glorbs into his own personal laboratory. Those things were balls of power and energy—perhaps he could get something out of them.

He could only get them to do so much—black hole generation, shrinking objects to molecular size, and superpower obliteration. None of them were what he was looking for.

It scared him when Greyman had found some of his work one day; how Greyman didn’t suspect was surprising.

And then the whole Donut Shop incident happened. He would rather not elaborate.

To hear those painful, agonizing words that ate on his soul from a voice as soft as coconut cream pie with purple yams. From a voice that cried his name in pleasure every other night, oh how dare she! Why would she?

Was he really not strong enough for her? For P.O.I.N.T.? For every one that fainted at the sound of his name?

How could he bear to face the woman again after lying through her teeth? After pity preaching over and over about his “power?”

How could he face anyone again?! Like this, weak?! More importantly, unhappy with what people believed he was happy for?

He cries in the sewers, unmoving in his vulnerability.

He starts over, in a new home with its own lab, hidden away from the scrutinizing eyes of the world. He studies, and he studies hard. What should a man give up to be happy again?

The serum is a failure—picking and choosing at least some other power doesn’t work. He feels snakelike.

His skin pigments mutated, and all his wounds would molt and shed. A long tongue that salivated with the poison he placed in himself, the strong inclinations to roll on the floor, the need to feast on more exotic foods, his random days of leglessness.

He was a new man, but sad all the same.

He thought a change was in order—Laserblast should be dead. He needed another name.

Another way to draw, to drain, to gain.

“I have an interest in your scientific developments, Mister....?”

“Venomous,” His heart spoke. “Professor Venomous.”

Billiam Milliam was his first and most frequent client—if it weren’t for him he wouldn’t hit it big quickly in the Villains’ Market.

It was just Milliam for a while, and little by little did he notice how much sway, how so easily malleable that golden statue was.

The cashflow was exhilarating, and thirst beckoned once more.

The third time he was happy, Professor Venomous had made his mark.

Admiration was far more satisfying when the standards to be upheld were more lenient, easier—this was the first time he’s felt like himself, and he was loving every moment of it.

To see his enemies cower before his power—power?

Perhaps this was it. Perhaps he had found what he was looking for.

Venomous reveled in his success and continued to research to his heart’s delight.


End file.
